


He Said Damn Your Kiss

by FantasiaV



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, pre-berlin wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 02:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5074456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaV/pseuds/FantasiaV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roderich finds Gilbert outside the hotel the world meeting is at, on the day before he is to disappear behind the Berlin Wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Said Damn Your Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Panic! at the Disco's Nicotine.  
> Written from Roderich's point of view.

“What are you doing here?”  
I find Gilbert sitting outside the hotel. Dark bags rest under his twitching eyes. His astigmatism has gotten worse. His silver colored hair is disheveled more than usual. His forehead creases and his fingers twitch. The cigarette leaves his lips, along with a great puff of smoke.  
I don’t know how to answer his question. We both know that this isn’t my place to be. But if I’m not here now, I will surely regret it.  
I refuse to cry.  
“We made a promise once,” I tell him.  
He doesn’t tear his gas from the dissipating smoke. “Oh yeah?”  
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”  
“Burn my lungs and curse my eyes,” Gilbert replies, a sad smile playing on his lips. “Many people make many promises. But when push comes to shove--”  
“I’m not those people, Gilbert.” I sit down next to him. The polished bench has plenty of room, but I sit as close to him as possible, without sitting on his lap.  
“Oh?”  
“You know that.”  
He doesn’t say anything. The cigarette is back in his mouth and his fingers are twiddling. I can almost watch the cogs whirring in his mind. He’s thinking. He’s mulling over my words. He’s doubting.  
The dissolution has changed Gilbert. The loud, brash and cocky man has become eerily reserved. At every discussion, his lips are sealed. His expression gives away little emotion. From what I hear, he doesn’t even talk to Ludwig. Instead, he locks himself up in his room and sits there silently. All day. Every day for the past few weeks. He isn’t eating. He isn’t sleeping. He insists that he be alone with his thoughts, the same thoughts that are devouring him from the inside out.  
“Do I know that?” His tone is accusatory, but his facial expression remains the same. The creases and lines on his brow are all fro tired apathy. “They’re making plans to divide me in there. At the end of the day, Kongregich die Preussen will be no more. I’ll have no land, no people, no name. Is that truly someone you want?”  
I shake my head. If this is what he thinks, then he is an even greater idiot than I thought. He is too much of an idiot to express with words. I want to slap him until he sees the truth.  
“That won’t stop me. Loving you isn’t a conscious decision. If it were, I wouldn’t be here. I’ve lost control.”  
“You’ll get it back.”  
“I don’t want it back.”  
Gilbert looks at me oddly. “Trust me, you do. You don’t want this. You don’t want me. I’m going numb. I’ve been practically hijacked by the Russian son of a bitch and it’s a fucking drag. The worst part is knowing that I deserve this.”  
“You don’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this.”  
Another odd look. Gilbert won’t be swayed. Not with words anyway.  
I lean in on him, my hands slowly moving to cup his face. He looks frightened almost. As if this is the last time we’ll touch. His breathing quickens as I move closer.  
I taste him on my lips. His breath is full of bitter beer and stale cigarettes -- not flavors I enjoy particularly, but they’re the flavors of Gilbert. I knit my fingers through his hair. I want him. And I want him to know that I want him.  
His apathetic facade breaks. He goes from a stone wall to a passionate fire in less than a minute. His arms wrap around my waist and he kisses me with all he has. We fall apart only to get fresh air. I feel his pulse racing beneath my fingertips. I know he’s trying to numb his feelings. I know he’s trying to get away from all of this because he knows he will miss it.  
But his tactics are not only wrong, they are impossible. He can’t keep me away.  
“I can’t get rid of you…” I tell him between staggering breaths. “I don’t want to get rid of you. Gilbert Beilschmidt, I love you. And I will spend every last possible minute with you.”  
He scowls. He can’t sort through his feelings. He is at a loss for words.  
His mouth opens, then closes. And then opens again.  
“Damn your kiss. And damn all those awful things you do to me.”  
He drops the cigarette. I almost forgot he was holding onto it. The butt is crushed firmly under the heel of his boot before we lock gazes. His red eyes hold a fierce determination. Grim,war-torn, and tired, but determined.  
“You’re worse than nicotine.” He speaks like the very act is detestable. “I’m not good for you. This isn’t going to end well, so I want to end it now.”  
“But?”  
“But I can’t.”  
We kiss again. He grabs the labels of my suit and his mouth is on mine instantly. I feel him everywhere. His hands race down my back one minute. The next, their tangled in my hair. And after what seems eternity, he pulls away to rest his head on my shoulder.  
“You know what they say…” I murmur. I feel him stirring in my arms. “It’s better to burn than fade away.”  
Gilbert snickers. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up burning me at stake.”  
“Don’t say that. That’s not what I meant--”  
“I know it’s not what you meant. You want to be with me until I absolutely have to leave. You want to hold on before I’m gone completely. But I’m telling you, it’s better if I fade. It’s better for you.”  
My grip on him tightens. I don’t know how he can say these terrible, grim things. If he’s trying to be a martyr, I won’t let him.  
He continues talking. “Besides, after I leave you can have me replaced.”  
“I could never replace you.”  
“Oh really?” He chuckles. “And how many remarriages have you had over the past centuries?”  
“That’s irrelevant and you know it.”  
“I know that you have to move on. Don’t get dragged down with me.”  
“Stop it Gilbert. If I want to get dragged down, I will.”  
He is silent for a while. For a while, there is no movement or sound save for his measured breaths.  
“Gott verdammt, I need to get rid of you. We can’t do this anymore. But it’s like fighting myself. It’s hard. I’m losing to you, baby. I’m no match.”  
His voice grows irate. He is trying his hardest, but it’s in vain. He wants to break away, to get up and leave me, but he can’t. His eye twitches. He steals several glances at the car, as if considering making a run for it and driving away.  
But I won’t let him. Our time is short and precious. I won’t let him leave. Not yet.  
My lips brush against his cheek. I want to remind him that I am still here, that I will always be here. He scowls and turns away for a brief second, before pulling his head back. He is angry with himself. He hates himself for being unable to fight of his feelings. But I couldn’t be happier.  
When he kisses me, it tastes of want and regret for that want. It’s fast, then slow -- an indecisive mix that has him pulling away and coming back for more. The act is killing him, but also saving him.  
When he at last manages to break away for good, he looks almost ashamed.  
“Seriously, this isn’t good. Just one more hit and then we’re through. You will never be able to love me back after I leave. Who knows how long I’ll be gone for? Who knows if I’ll come back the same?”  
I crack a small smile. “You’ll still be Gilbert Beilschmidt.”  
“But not Preussen.” He’s becoming irritable. “Stop taking it like a joke. I’m seriously telling you to cut every tie you have to me.”  
“How about you stop acting like the world is going it end. Things will work out, somehow. Either way, I want you. I want your love -- as much of a fucking drag it is, I want it.”  
“ _ **Your**_ love is a fucking drag,” Gilbert mimics. He’s joking now, smiling in spite of everything that has happened and will happen to him. “But God, I need it so bad.”


End file.
